


No Matter What - Calem Scott

by AzuleOpal



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Coming Out, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 03:15:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18023720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzuleOpal/pseuds/AzuleOpal
Summary: John Laurens tells his story in double narration, inspired by the song.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kBIhqNT5gsETRIGGER WARNING: HOMOPHOBIA, HATEFUL LANGUAGE





	No Matter What - Calem Scott

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to post this for months, but after The Great Writing Purge Of December, when I lost entire month of writing (about 40,000 words, I think), I was devastated. Luckily, rewritten and revised, is this fic!
> 
> Update: I have edited out the gaps. Is it evenly spaced now?

_ When I was a young boy, I was scared of growing up. _

I pass my baseball from hand to hand, relishing its weight in my hand, as I listen to my friend Francis talk about that girl over there he’s gonna marry, the kids he’ll have and all the coffee he’ll drink when he’s older.

We’re eleven years old.

_ I didn’t understand it, but I was terrified of love. _

I don’t see the appeal. I can’t imagine myself at age fourteen, even, let alone with a girlfriend. Too much emotional trouble. 

But Francis? He’s imagining himself at age twenty-something with a wife and kids. A whole life.

I could never have a wife. Or kids.

Should I tell them?

_ Felt like I had to choose, but it was out of my control. _

“Which of the girls in our class would you marry, John?” Asks one of the boys. Samuel, I think.”

“Uhh…”

I don’t want to marry any of the girls in my class. Or any of the girls out of my class. They’re boring. Girls are like cats. They don’t like moving much, they think they’re so graceful and smart, but I can’t play-wrestle with a girl. They don’t like being touched.

“Martha Manning. John would marry Martha Manning. They both have dads that are rich and important. Plus, they are family friends. A perfect match.” Decides Francis, punching my shoulder playfully.

I recoil slightly at the mention of my father but try to laugh it off like the rest of the boys, to fit in, to be like them.

But was I really?

_ I needed to be saved, I was going crazy on my own. _

After school finishes for the day, I find myself sprawled on my back, laying on the bed with an arm over of my eyes.

Images begin to fill my mind. 

The toned back of an athletic boy in the grade above me during gym class. The low rumble of a voice of some boy who has reached puberty early. The chiseled jawline of a certain dirty blond, curly-haired friend.

No soft curves, no long, shiny hair tied in pretty pink or purple ribbons. No frilly skirts. No sickly sweet perfume girls my age love to wear. No high, delicate laughter floats into my thoughts.

I try to summon images of the latter, really I do try, but my mind is drawn back to the previous, no matter how hard I try.

_ It took me years to tell my mother, I expected the worst. _

We’re sitting at the dinner table. It’s the first day of winter break, grade nine. My father is working at the office late and my siblings have all gone to bed except my sister Martha, who is out with friends, so tonight, it’s just my mother and myself.

I know this is my chance to tell her, but I fear her reaction. She might disown me, tell my father, hurt me-

“John? You’re awfully quiet tonight, sugar. What’s on your mind?” My mother’s lilting voice cuts into my thoughts and I feel a small rush of adrenaline.

Here’s goes nothing.

I take a deep breath, trying to push away any hesitations. “Well, I have something to tell you, Ma. It’s been on my mind for quite a while now and I just wanted to tell you... I’m gay.”

My mother is silent for a moment and I feel my heartbeat increase and brace myself.

_ She said “I love you no matter what. I just want you to be happy and always be who you are.” _

Relief floods my entire body as I collapse in my chair and I let out a small sob. My mother drops her fork and walks over to me, pulling me up to stand.

_ She wrapped her arms around me, said: “Don’t try to be what you’re not, ‘cause I love you no matter what.” _

I look up from where I’m sniffling quietly into her shirt and into her eyes. “Please don’t tell Pa yet. I’m not ready for him to know.”

My mother nods, understanding. She kisses my forehead and puts her head on top of mine. She’s still a little bit taller than me and I smile, breathing in her comforting floral scent. 

_ She loves me no matter what. _

I stay there in her arms, safe, loved and protected, barely believing my luck and thanking every holy deity I know.

_ I got a little older, wishing all my time away. _

My back is pressed to the wall by my bed, my neck is stiff. I’m staring at the screen of my phone, listlessly scrolling through posts on some social media or other. I like a picture here, leave a comment there, then eventually turn to watch old vines on Youtube. It’s the weekend, but I almost prefer the stressful bustle of school days over the long and boring weekends. I am startled out of my mindless stupor by a message. I press it.

It’s a message from Francis. My heart skips a beat as the chat loads.

**Francis Prances, 3:30pm: hey bro we goin 2 sk8brd, wanna come?**

**Drawin’ John, 3:30pm: Sure. Street or park?**

**Francis Prances, 3:31pm: Street. B there.**

**Drawin’ John, 3:32pm: *thumbs up emoji***

I put my phone down and try to steady my fluttering heart. “It’s just Francis. He’s just texting on behalf of the group. Now, where’s my skateboard?”

I hop off my bed and start searching through my closet, where the skateboard I had received as a gift from my friends is hidden behind piles of old toys, clothes, and boxes.

“Where are you, skateboard? Come out of the closet! I did it two years ago!” I whisper, chuckling at my own joke. I shuffle through my things until the skateboard falls on my head.

“Ouch!” I curse under my breath, rubbing at the spot. I pull the offending board out of the closet, throw on a light sweater, then head out. As I pass the kitchen, I salute Martha, sitting at the kitchen table, reading.

“I’m heading out with friends. Tell mom I’ll be back for dinner.”

My sister, bless her, gives me a thumbs up and a smile then turns back to her book. 

I grin as I turn to the door and close it behind me. I hop onto my skateboard and ride down the road. Soon, I see my friends and wave at them. As I approach, I notice Francis has his arm around someone…

Martha Manning.

The same Martha Francis had claimed I would marry, five years ago.

I feel my heart miss a beat and suddenly, the sun seems a little less bright than just a moment ago.

“Laurens! What’s up, bro?” Francis bellows exuberantly, clearly putting on a show for Martha.  “Great to see you, my man. I assume you’ve met the lovely Martha Manning here beside me?”

I can practically feel the smugness rolling off the uplifted curve of his smirked lips in waves.

I nod stiffly. I want to tell him the shock and betrayal he most likely sees on my face isn’t because of my being jealous of him, but of the girl beside him. 

I frown slightly, eyes not meeting either of theirs. Then I shake my head and put on a smile.

“But of course! What a pleasure it is to see you again, darlin’.” I drawl. I bow and take her hand, placing a polite kiss to the too-sweet smelling skin, smooth under my lips. I cringe inwardly. Who the heck cares about what their hands look and smell like?! Girls.

When I straighten up a moment later, I see that Martha has a slight blush and isn’t looking at me. When I let go of her hand, I catch her tracing a finger over where my lips were.

I grimace to myself. Father would be so proud. I made a lady blush.

Francis pulls me from my mullings. “Martha and I have been dating for about two weeks now.”

I give him a weak smile, but I feel my heart cracking, just a little bit. 

“That’s news,” I say. “Congratulations. Does your lady know how to skate?”

I ask the question to Francis, but I look at Martha when I ask. She blushes again and shakes her head.

“I’m still just learning. Francie’s teaching me. He’s a good teacher.”

I smile, thinking of the year Francis taught me to use this very skateboard. How he taught me to skip stones a few summers ago. My smile is genuine. But pained. “I agree.”

Martha smiles shyly. Francis clears his throat.

“If you’re done flirting with my girlfriend, I wanna skate around the neighborhood for a bit.”

I scoff lightly, struck by the irony. If only he knew. 

“Yeah, that sounds good. I want to learn to make sharper turns.” Martha suggests, turning to Francis.

He smiles and kisses the top of her head. How he doesn’t choke on her hair or her sickeningly sweet smell is beyond me. “Come on then, m’lady. I can teach you. Just follow my lead.”

With that, we all jump on our skateboards and join the others, who are a little further down the road, doing simple tricks.

“Let’s go!” Francis calls, one hand in Martha’s, the other in the air, beckoning us all to follow him. So we do.

_ Riding on the pavement, every sunny day was gray. _

As I roll, I let my mind wander away from the numbing rumble of the wheels on the pavement beneath me. It lands on the boy ahead of me, with a girl. A girlfriend. While I skate behind him in silent agony. What would have happened if I had said something? I feel the weight of the question and its possible implications follow me, floating above my head like a dark cloud.

I barely notice as we stop at the end of the next road and some of the guys begin practicing tricks and flips once more. I opt instead to sit down on the curb, my skateboard on the grass behind me, my chin in my palm, my arm on my knee as I watch my friends trip over themselves to win each other’s praise and respect. 

It’s funny really, how the hierarchy of our little group had always been established by how physically talented each person is, though it doesn’t really matter in what. The more things you’re good at, the higher up you are. I’ve always been lucky enough to be close to the top, to golden boy Francis. His relationship only further cements his rightful crown.

Eventually, Francis comes over to me, sitting down beside me with a thud. I try not to give any indication of my rising heart rate.

“Oh man, Martha’s such a fast learner. She already mastered both turns and sharp stops. She’s so cool, so talented. I love her. Don’t you love her?  She’s so great.” Francis says. 

I have never seen him act so dotingly over a girl. Or anyone, really. He’s always been a tough one. So this sudden change doesn’t go unnoticed.

I let out a dispassionate little laugh. “I would like her a heck of a lot more if she was a guy or wasn’t dating you”

_ I trusted in my friends, then all my world came crashing down. _

I feel someone tense and I can’t tell if it’s him, me, or both of us.

“Wait. Hold up. Did you just- are you... gay?” Francis is leaning away from me slightly as he says this. I quickly look over at him. He must see an answer in my wide, panicked eyes because his next words bring my world to a full stop.

“Get away from me! Disgusting! Leave me alone!”

I flinch as he pushes me and gets up, a look of fear in his eyes and a cruel curve to his lips. I try to grab his sleeve, to pull him down, to explain myself to him, but he shakes me off like I have some disease, wide eyes never leaving mine. As he steps away from me.

“What’s wrong?” Asks Samuel, hearing us and rolling over. He flips his skateboard up into his arm as Francis points a shaky finger at me.

“Laurens is a homo! He tried to kiss me!” 

I push off the curb to stand, anger flaring up, fueled by the false accusation. “I did not! I just told you I’d rather-”

“You’d rather corrupt me than be normal, like the rest of us?” Francis says, loud enough that the others hear. They all approach us and suddenly I’m surrounded.

_ I wish I never said a thing, ‘cause to them, I’m a stranger now. _

“Wait, Senator Laurens’ son is gay? Wait until the world hears this!”

“Do you wanna smash Francis? I bet you wanna smash him, you gross freak.”

“I bet he gets off on us changing in the changeroom at practice!”

“This is why he doesn’t want a girlfriend. He wants Francis!”

“I’ll bet that’s why he rode behind him today, to get a look at him from behind!”

“Gross!”

“Aw, disgusting!”

“That’s messed up, bro!”

My vision has gone blurry with tears, my heart is ripping like an old rag. 

“Aw, little Johnny boy looks like he’s gonna cry. Cry like a girl then. Play dolls with them too.”

I can’t take it any longer. I push my way through the group, through the taunts. I need to shove my way through.

Somewhere in my haze, I realize my skateboard is still on the grass. When I wipe at my tears, my eyes fall upon Martha. Her arms are loosely crossed in front of her. She looks shocked. Scared. Sympathetic.

I don’t want her sympathy. I want to get out of here. She drops her gaze, but I see her tears. I look back towards the cackling group at the curb, throwing my skateboard around in a twisted game of Hot Potato.

I don’t stop them.

I take off, blindly running up the whole block to my house, the sun turning the sky blood red behind me as it sets. I crash into the house, stumble through the door.

_ I ran home, I saw my mother, it was written on my face. _

My clamorous entry alerts my mother of my return and she turns away from the salad she’s preparing. When our eyes meet, she sees the tear streaks on my face and how bloodshot my eyes are. She drops the knife to the cutting board with a clatter.

_ Felt like I had a heart of glass about to break. _

“Oh, Jackie-”

She strides towards me and gathers me in a hug and I collapse in her arms, sobbing freely into her apron, the one that always smells of fried garlic chicken and black pepper.

“What happened, darlin’?” She whispers. Her fingers are soft in my hair and it makes me sob harder.

“I told Francis I like him- his girlfriend- Matha Manning- they all- they all taunted me, called me gross, messed up, worthless, I feel awful, Ma. It hurts. They probably broke my skateboard- and- and- Martha-”

I can’t even complete a proper sentence, the memory of their painful betrayal still fresh in my mind. The memory of Martha’s eyes. What had I seen in Martha’s eyes?

My mother coos softly in my ear, murmuring under her breath. She leads me to the couch, wraps me in blankets, then with her arms as I continue to hiccup.

_ She said “I love you no matter what. I just want you to be happy and always be who you are.” _

She rubs my back soothingly, kissing my face, my hair, my tears. I can feel her crying quietly beside me. I know this must hurt her too. My heart completely shatters.

_ She wrapped her arms around me, said: “Don’t try to be what you’re not, ‘cause I love you no matter what.” _

I nod, whimpering, eyes still leaking and chest still bouncing unevenly with every shaky breath. My mother sings soft lullabies, rocking me gently. I don’t complain that I’m sixteen, too old for this.

I cry myself to sleep.

_ Now I’m a man and I’m so much wiser. I walk the Earth with my head held higher. _

I’m twenty-six. It’s been ten years since the day I lost my friends. I have become an active political leader, had enlisted in the army, served for a few years with flying colours, went to University, got degrees in everything I could ever dream of having. I’m so proud of how far I’ve come.

_ I got the love that I need. _

I’m proud of him too. Graduated in three years, a successful lawyer, enlisted in the army with me and nowhere near slowing down. Alexander Hamilton has made me the happiest person alive and helped me just as much as I helped him in the past three years. We have become an unstoppable force. We bounce our energy off each other, building each other up to magnificent heights. 

We are each other’s wings as much as we are each other’s anchors. 

_ But I was still missing one special piece… _

“Are you sure they’ll like me? What if I mess up? Say something that’ll offend them?” Alex asks, fiddling with his tie.

I take his hands in mine, squeeze them, steady them. The dim light of the hallway makes Alexander’s beautiful eyes glimmer slightly. I try to comfort him.

“Lexi, you’re brilliant and witty and absolutely delightful. I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you if you weren’t. They’ll see that. Come on Petit Lion, show ‘em why they call you a tomcat.” I say, nudging him playfully.

He smiles at me, shaking his head and I know I’ve made him laugh.

I’m nervous too, though I try not to let it show. My family is just about to sit down for dinner on the other side of this very wall and only my mother is a guaranteed ally in this game of chess. I take Alexander’s hand firmly in my own, take a deep breath. I feel as though I’m about to enter a battlefield, a fight on the horizon, possibly the hardest of my life and I know Alex feels the same way we did when we had to carry out battles in the army, side-by-side. This time is no different. I take comfort in that.

“Ready?” I ask.

He looks at me, clearly zoned in and ready to charm a group. Another familiar look, though this one is clearly laced with nerves. “Ready.”

We step in together, steps and heartbeat almost synchronized.

I clear my throat. “Momma? Father? I want you to meet Alexander Hamilton… My boyfriend.”

Alexander smiles and glides towards my mother, kisses her hand gracefully. “A pleasure to meet you, ma’am. You have a lovely talent for art.”

My mother blushes and I crack a smile. Good Alex. Compliment her art. It’s one of her biggest sources of pride. He must have seen her drawings and paintings along the hallway, with her signature scrawled at the bottom.

“Oh, what a charming boy you are. You’re a delight sugar, please, make yourself at home.”

“Thank you, ma’am, you are most gracious.” He replies with an easy smile. My father watches silently from his spot, arms crossed and face unreadable.

I watch as my boyfriend carefully maneuvers himself towards him, where the two shake hands.

“It is a pleasure to meet you too, sir. I have heard many good things about you. Your political successes are quite a thing to behold, sir.” Alex almost purrs.

_ My father looked at me… _

I hold his gaze for a moment, then sit down next to Alexander, who is now sitting next to Mary Eleanor.

“Are you John’s friend?” She asks, eyes flitting between his eyes and his hair, like mine had that first day.

He smiles. “I’m his boyfriend.”

She tips her head to the side. “Like, you go on dates and hold hands and kiss with him?”

Alexander chuckles. “Yeah. We do other things too, like drawing and writing.”

“That sounds like so much fun! Do you love Jackie?” Asks the girl.

Alexander turns to face me as he says “I daresay I do.”

I look down at my plate of potatoes and blush. I feel his hand wrap around mine and I squeeze shyly. His hand jerks in mine and he turns quickly to my sister.

“Mary Eleanor! We do not touch our guests’ hair!” My mother scolds. I look over to the young girl, ears, and cheeks the same colour as mine and eyes wide.

“But his hair is so soft and pretty!”

Alexander chuckles. “Would you like to touch it?”

My sister looks at my mother. “Can I?”

My mother considers for a moment. “Are you sure it’s no issue dear? I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Alex smiles. “If it isn’t an issue with you, she is free to play my hair if she wants.”

Mary Eleanor claps her hands together once and starts tugging gently on my boyfriend’s auburn curls. He smiles, wincing lightly when Mary Eleanor’s fingers get caught in his hair for a moment.

“So tell me, Alexander, how did you and Jackie meet?” My mother asks curiously.

Alexander’s smile turns fond. “We met in the army. It was the first day we were there and we were assigned the same practice mission.” 

He tells my mother about how we had succeeded the task better than any of our colleagues and how we had bonded over ideas of freedom and equality. He tells her how delighted we were when we discovered we shared a room. How we stayed up late, planning to make sweeping changes to the political landscape of America and how we would make history. I remember that he had told me one night how important leaving a legacy is to him, how he had learned young that very few things last forever and that he hopes his name and his legacy might be some the lucky few. Somewhere between the late night chats and the all-day banter, we had fallen in love.

“I had asked him out by inviting him to see the stars with me one night. I was so nervous because John is such a bright soul, so much passion and love and empathy. I was absolutely smitten. I still am.” I hear Alex say.

I blush, then add “I had never seen you stumble over your words, but that night, you were a mess. I thought it was absolutely adorable and I was stunned that you were like that because of me.”

Alexander smiles at me, squeezes my hand beneath the table again. My mother gives a soft “aww” 

“You guys are disgustingly cute.” Martha, my other sister, says.

Henry Jr. grins mischievously. “You’re just jealous because Jackie has a boyfriend and you don’t.”

Martha scoffs. “I am not! I’m happy for him! He deserves someone who makes him happy!”

I shoot her a thankful look as Henry Jr. crosses his arms and lets Jemmy steal a chicken wing off his plate. 

The rest of the night passes in pleasant conversation and lovely food, sprinkled with stories of my childhood and tales of Alexander’s. I  risk a glance at my father. He’s been awfully quiet this whole time, his gaze burning holes through the back of my head all night. My stomach tightens uncomfortably.

Before I can worry about him too much, the table is empty of food and Jemmy is sent to find Donna, the house cook and maid, who I feel conflicted about, because she is essentially a paid slave to the family, which I find ironic, but I know she loves her job and loves us. Plus, I have made sure she is paid well and given all the necessities of life in comfort.

“Oh, let me help, I’m intruding on your family dinner, the least I can do is help clean up after myself,” Alexander says, already beginning to rise as soon as Jemmy is gone.

“Don’t be silly, darlin’, you’re a guest, a very fine guest, You musn’t exert yourself unnecessarily.” My mother argues.

“No, no worries, ma’am, I’d be honoured to help. It will give you time to ask John questions if you wanted.” Alex counters.

My mother considers him with a smile. “Oh, alright. If it makes you happy. But don’t feel required to do any more than what is absolutely necessary sweet cake!”

Alexander rises gracefully from his chair, bows lightly to both my parents, then walks smoothly to the kitchen.

My siblings all stand and leave the table as Donna walks out and clears the dishes away. When she enters the kitchen, I spot Alexander, hair up, sleeves pulled back and wearing one of Donna’s aprons, all ready for work. I have no doubts he will charm her with stories of grandeur and reckless courage. He wins over just about everyone he meets. I had always admired that about him, wished it for myself.

“John.”

My father’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.

“Yes, sir?”

He looks at me over the rim of his glasses, leaning forwards onto his elbows for the first time tonight.

“What does he do for a living?”

Ah. So the interrogation begins after Alex isn’t here to speak for himself. I feel my stomach drop.

“He’s an upcoming lawyer, sped through school, self-taught from a young age, runs his own company and works as Secretary Treasury for Mister George Washington, writes all his speeches, organises his work and such,” I say, listing off Alexander’s occupations the way he had rattled them all off to me the first time I had asked.

“He good with money?”

I smile. “Very. He doubled his dollar’s worth in just under five years through investments and honest good work.”

My father leans back in his chair.

“Does he make you happy, son?” My mother pipes up.

I turn to her, having forgotten she hadn’t left when the others had.

“Yes,” I reply, sincerely. “He’s made me happier than anything in this world. He’s made me see the world in a new light, a bright one that shows so many opportunities and possibilities. He’s shown me the joy of life, how precious and fleeting and beautiful it is. I can only hope I have shown him something beautiful in return.”

My mother smiles at me, takes my hand. “Honey, if the way he looks at you is any indication, you’ve shown him the most beautiful thing in the world. He clearly adores you.”

I smile. “Thank you ma.”

She squeezes my hand, then gets up. Most likely to prepare for bed. Her head must be bothering her. Poor thing. She sat through all of dinner without a word of complaint.

My father clears his throat and my head whips around to face him.

“Son,” He says. “I see you and this… young man are very well suited for each other.”

I gulp, nodding a bit. I don’t know where this is going.

“Now, it will take me time to be fully at peace with your… lifestyle, but I need you to know.”

_ He said “I love you no matter what. I just want you to be happy and always be who you are.” _

My throat closes and tears prick my eyes. “You mean, you’re okay with him and I being together?”

“Not yet, not quite. But you are my son and I am so proud of you for staying strong. I am deeply regretful that you had to go through this by yourself and that I wasn’t the loving, caring father you so clearly needed. I apologize for my mistakes and for any time I made you feel like you couldn’t come to me for support.” He says.

I let out a sob, but it’s a happy sob. My father stands up and walks over to me, pulls me to stand.

_ He wrapped his arms around me, said “don’t try to be what you’re not. ‘Cause I love you no matter what.” _

I sob into his chest, gripping his arms, which hold my head, my back. I feel euphoria, crying into his shirt.

_ He loves me no matter what. _

That’s how my mother finds us, wrapped in an embrace. She joins our hug. So does Alexander, when he comes out of the kitchen. My mother invites him in and he finds his place in our hug. So does Martha, when she sees us.

My heart feels so full, so loved. I’m surrounded by the most important people in my life. 

The best part?

_ They love me no matter what. _

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, kudos and checking out my other works are always welcome and encouraged! I like knowing what y'all think!  
> I'm considering taking requests and OH YEAH. THE POEM COMPETITION IS STILL ON. Refresh: I'm looking for a poem from Philip to Theo in a fic where they have been friends for many years and he's FINALLY asking her out. To prom. Through a poem. Check the notes of one of my other works (which? I dunno. Read them all to find out! Or maybe it'll be on my Tumblr) for details. Good luck!


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